Typical Day
Connie Traception wakes up at 6:30am. She needs to be at Margaret Sanger Elementary School by 7:20am, so that she can set up for her first health class of the day. Stumbling to the closet, Connie picks out a high-necked blouse. For some reason, she always compensates for her somewhat risqué line of work by dressing slightly on the conservative side. This way, she tells herself in the mirror, she commands more attention and respect.
In fact, Connie needs all the attention and respect she can get. For some reason (actually, a lot of reasons), she can never get her seven- and eight-year-olds to treat her lesson plans seriously. Connie sighs. Even if they can't stop laughing, and even if they throw paper planes at her head, she knows some of what she says will sink in. That's all that matters.
Connie drives up to the elementary school, parks, and heads to her classroom. As she rounds the corner, pulling out her keys to unlock the door, Connie is surprised to see an adult woman, standing outside the door, tapping her foot impatiently.
Uh oh.
Connie knows what this is. This is one of those pesky parents with a concern, issue, question, or soliloquy for her. For a brief moment, Connie hates her job. She hates these meddlesome parents. She hates that she constantly has to defend the work she does. She hates that these parents have no idea how hard she works at a job that pays her less than one-fifth what this parent probably makes as a corporate executive.
"Hi, Ms. Traception?"
Connie nods, and smiles warily. "That's right."
"My name is Chloe Sminded. I'm Jack's mother."
"Oh, pleasure to meet you. Jack's a great kid, really wonderful."
"Yes, well. I know. He's my child."
Had she said he wasn't her child? Connie detects some defensiveness in the mother's tone. She waits for the mother to continue.
"I'd just like to, err, chat with you briefly regarding the, err, appropriateness of your course for my son. I have certain, err, reservations, and I need to be sure that you and my son are the best fit for each other."
The best fit for each other? Lady, Connie wants to say, all I do is follow state curriculum. If you have a problem with what I teach, take it up with the state! But Connie knows not to say that. Instead she ushers the mother into the classroom, promising to hear her for the next 20 minutes until her students start to show up.
Around 7:45am, the kids start turning up for class. Thank goodness. Connie bids goodbye to the parent. She's sure the parent will still talk to the principal, but for now, Jack''s staying in the class and Connie has work to get done.
Welcoming her class, Connie begins to distribute the state-mandated weekly quiz. This week's topic? "Keeping Appropriate Physical Boundaries." The kids hunch over their quizzes, their faces screwed up in concentration. Connie can't help but think that at moments like this, when they're quiet, the kids are almost kind of…cute.
But then she collects the quizzes, and they become demon-monsters again. They clamber out of their seats, they jump around, they demand sweets. Their chatter is so loud that Connie can'’t hear herself think.
"GUYS. QUIET DOWN."
They keep talking. Is she mute?
"KIDS. KIDS."
They're still talking. It's time for the whistle. Connie hates doing this. If she wanted to use a whistle to direct people, she would have become a gym teacher or a drill sergeant. Like dogs, though, the entire class of demon-monsters stop what they're doing and look at her.
"Thank you," Connie breathes out in relief.
Class proceeds relatively normally for the last half-hour, with only two more blows on the whistle. All in all, a good class period for Connie. In the 15 minutes before her next class starts, she snacks on a couple rice cakes with peanut butter, and tries to read the book she's been reading for the last…three months? She gets through three pages.
The next class, and the class after that, and the last class of her day are all okay. Connie can't remember the last time she had a really, really amazing class. Maybe never. But oh well. At least she can be proud that students leave her health class well prepared to face some of the impending body and hormone changes that await them in their teen years.
In the last period of the day, Connie grades some of the quizzes from earlier in the day and develops a new worksheet that she can use next week on the female reproductive system. After a relatively boring day, Connie is thankful to be in her car, headed home, by 3:50pm.